


The "Lyrics and Melodies" Collection: A Merlin Drabble Series

by ToBeClaire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/M, Friendship, Loss, Love, Motherhood, Sex, Sexual Assault, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeClaire/pseuds/ToBeClaire
Summary: A collection of 20 “Merlin” drabbles inspired by song lyrics. Each drabble has been written from the POV of a female character from the show. The ratings range from K to M, and some drabbles include dark and/or sexual themes.





	1. Here Comes the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> A/N—The prompts for this drabble challenge (called “Lyrics and Melodies”) were created by Heatherlly on whimsicalwanderings dot net. Each drabble will be rated clearly at the beginning, and ratings will range from K to M. The series includes many dark themes, such as death, suicidal ideation, sex, and violence. However, it’s not ALL doom and gloom. 
> 
> Further, for this drabble series, I wanted to try something different. When I write for the “Merlin” fandom, I find myself writing about the same characters over and over, and why not? I love them! However, this time I wanted to focus on the women of “Merlin.” Each of these twenty drabbles is written from the POV of a female character. I learned a lot while writing this series, and it forced me to grow, take chances, and look at old stories through fresh eyes. I thank you for taking the time to read this.

First Challenge: “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles

Category: Het (canon)

Characters/Pairings: Freya/Merlin

Ratings/Warnings: T (suicidal ideation)

Word Count: 292

* * *

 

Her soul had been shrouded in darkness for so long.

Freya was cursed. Each night she transformed into a creature of the night and murdered the innocent. Living this damned half-life was torture, and Freya yearned for escape.

As she sat in a pile of squalid hay, chained in a rolling cage, she hoped her captor would do her a favor and kill her. And why not? He’d still receive his ransom if he dumped her lifeless body before the king.

There was no point in going on. Her dreams for a life filled with love and family had been shattered. Though not of her own free will, she gorged on human flesh each night; she was a repulsive monster. And if the bounty hunter did not have the decency to run her through, at the first opportunity, she would take her own life by any means available.

Freya leaned back against the cold iron bars and thought about her deceased parents. When she passed on, would she join them in the After World, or would she haunt the desolate moors of Albion for eternity? It did not matter, she decided. She needed relief from this earthly pain as soon as possible. The torment of wanting that which she would never have had grown unbearable.

When she heard footsteps approach, she did not bother looking up until a kind voice said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Merlin.”

The young man wore a tender expression on his face. He gazed at her with kindness, and it was like being bathed in sunlight. She cherished the warmth for a moment, knowing it would never last.


	2. Don't Fear the Reaper

Second Challenge: “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult

Category: Gen (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Ygraine, Arthur

Ratings/Warnings: T (blood, major character death)

Word Count: 273

* * *

 

Ygraine, Queen of Camelot, lay dying.

She had just delivered a baby boy, but her life’s blood rushed from her body in uncontrollable gushes, drenching the mattress beneath her. There was no stopping her death; she had little time.

“The baby,” she whispered as her vision dimmed. “Please let me hold him.”

Someone placed the swaddled newborn against her chest. There was much panicked ranting in the background, but Ygraine blocked it all out. She would spend her precious last moments cherishing with this soft, perfectly pink infant she had carried within her for the last nine months. He was such a beautiful creature, her baby, Arthur. It pained her to think she had only a few heartbeats left to breathe in his delicious, powdery scent and stroke his plump cheek.

Ygraine’s eyes grew heavy and her limbs weak. She had but one breath left.

“Arthur, I love you,” Ygraine breathed, as the midwife gently took the baby.

A tear slipped from Ygraine’s eye. She was not ready to die. When she considered how she would never tuck her baby into his cradle, never witness his first steps, and would miss his future wedding, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to ask for help, for comfort, but her voice ceased to work.

“Ygraine,” a gentle, soothing voice whispered in her ear. “I am here to guide you on. Be not afraid, Queen. I shall make sure you are part of your son’s life. You shall not miss a thing, and he will know of your love. Trust me.”

With a final, shuddering breath, Ygraine slipped into a quiet, peaceful death.


	3. Wicked Game

Third Challenge: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Category: Het (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Hunith/Balinor

Ratings/Warnings: T (sexual reference)

Word Count: 300

* * *

 

Hunith never loved him, not really.

Balinor, the hunted Dragonlord whom she had harbored in her home for months, had departed several weeks ago without warning. Not a kiss goodbye, no note…nothing. Which was fine because, again, she did not love him.

So what if the memory of his passionate kisses and tender touch upon her bare skin made her body burn with lust and longing? She would get over it.

And the fact that in the afterglow of their lovemaking he had held her and whispered that she was the wife of his heart? Idle chatter. Nothing to take seriously. One day she’d wed and forget all about Balinor.

With a slight frown, Hunith lay down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. It had been a long day and she craved rest. Sowing the fields seemed more challenging than ever this year. She was so weary she could hardly keep her eyes open.

Her exhaustion had nothing to do with the fact she was carrying Balinor’s baby, nothing to do with the fact she missed him so much it felt as if her beating heart had been ripped from her body.

After taking a few deep breaths, Hunith decided she would stop lying to herself about Balinor. Their love had been genuine and intense, and his sudden desertion left her bereft and broken. She would raise their child alone.

In her mind’s eye, she pictured a baby with blue-black hair like Balinor’s. The little one cooed and smiled, gazing up at her with adoring eyes. The image of this beautiful creature was the only thing that brought her peace. Her love for this child she carried, yet unnamed, would help her withstand the dark and lonely days ahead.


	4. Dante's Prayer

Fourth Challenge: "Dante's Prayer" by Loreena McKennitt

Category: Het (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Annis/Caerleon

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 300

* * *

Queen Annis had known this day would arrive, the day when her husband's corpse would be presented to her. Besides being a king, Caerleon was a fierce warrior, and he never shied away from leading the charge across the battlefield. She was surprised, yet grateful, it had taken so many years for her beloved to fall.

Annis's knights held up the transport frame on which Caerleon's body lay, and she pulled back the sheet. The slice across her husband's neck appeared too clean and precise to be a battle wound. Caerleon had been beheaded; he had not experienced the glorious warrior's death he desired.

Lowering the sheet, she feigned rage when all she wanted to do was weep. She shouted something about making Arthur Pendragon pay, then hastened to her chambers. Annis dismissed her young maidservant, bellowing how she needed to plot her revenge in peace.

Staring at her bed, Annis recalled her first meeting with Caerleon decades earlier, which had occurred only hours before their wedding. He scared her half to death, with his swagger and bombast. Before she knew his favorite meal or if he preferred ale to mead, they were married.

That evening, in the bedchamber, Annis had worked herself into a such a state over losing her maidenhood to a near stranger that she grew lightheaded. However, Caerleon had taken her hand and guided her to a bench before the hearth where they sat and talked for hours. He soothed her nerves and finally, she was ready to lie with him. It turned out their bodies fit together beautifully, and they made love the whole night long.

Their connection strengthened over the years and they ruled as one, a rarity in Albion. Facing life without her love, her partner in all things, seemed unbearable.

"I will remember you," whispered Annis, sinking to the ground, allowing the agony of grief to engulf her.


	5. With or Without You

Fifth Challenge: "With or Without You" by U2

Category: Het (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Isolde/Tristan

Ratings/Warnings: T (character death)

Word Count: 319

* * *

Death's icy tendrils coiled around Isolde as she lay dying in Tristan's arms.

She and Tristan had been smugglers, so do die by the sword had always been a possibility. However,  _actually_  staring at death's shadowy face was far more lonely and frightening than she imagined. And now, with blood draining from her abdominal wound, soaking Tristan's trousers, she understood she would meet death in heartbeats. But how many? Two? Twenty?

Beneath Isolde Tristan trembled, and she decided this was the worst part of dying, that she could not comfort her lover and would never speak the words she longed to say, that final, loving goodbye he so deserved.

They met four years ago when she had fled from her home in the dead of night to escape her abusive husband. She had left with only the clothes on her back and was close to starvation when Tristan found her wandering the woods, disoriented, clawing at the flea bites that riddled her skin. He asked no questions; she asked no questions—he simply cared for her. By the time she recovered, she was still wary and explained she did not trust men.

"That's all right," he told her. "I don't trust women, so we're even."

But they fell in love regardless.

"A love for the ages," Tristan often said.

Hot, salty blood bubbled up in Isolde's throat, drawing her out of the past. Death hovered.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered before she ran out of time.

Tristan stroked her hair and spoke soothing words, but his voice sounded far away.

"Our dreams," she uttered. "I wish…" She wished for so much and it was all too difficult to articulate.

With her final breath, Isolde panted, "Hold me."

That was all she needed, for Tristan to hold her as she crossed into the After World. Alone. Without him.


	6. Live to Tell

Sixth Challenge: "Live to Tell" by Madonna

Category: Het (Modern AU)

Characters/Pairings: Guinevere/Arthur

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 347

* * *

Guinevere stood on the steps of her ex-boyfriend Arthur’s flat. She took a steadying breath before she walked into the building, wondering how he would receive her when she knocked on his door. They had not seen one another in six months, not since he decided they needed to “take a break.”

Although he started contacting her the very next day after their split, begging for a second chance, Gwen ignored him. “I fucked up, Gwen. Please talk to me. Meet me for lunch, coffee, anything. I’ll do _anything_ to win you back. I am so sorry…”

She deleted every voicemail and disregarded his every effort to get in touch.

He’d sent her gifts: flowers, sweets (her favorite), and books with inscriptions professing his undying love for her. But if he had _really_ loved her, he would not have wanted “a break” from their relationship.

Hesitating and wiping the sweat off the back of her neck, Guinevere began to second guess this visit. After all, she’d heard nothing from Arthur for the past month. Maybe this was a poor idea, turning up unannounced. After this long, he probably had a new girlfriend. What if he opened the door and scoffed, or worse, a lithe, leggy blonde answered, wearing nothing more than Arthur’s T-shirt, her hair tousled adorably?

Straightening her light summer dress, Guinevere summoned her nerve. She marched inside, up to the third floor, and knocked, forcing herself to remain in place when every nerve screamed: “LEAVE!” Because Arthur deserved to know what was happening. But if he sent her away, she wondered how she’d survive another rejection, especially in her vulnerable emotional state.

Arthur appeared in the doorway, dressed in his usual weekend attire of a T-shirt and faded jeans. A smile spread across his face instantly, then his gaze shifted to her swollen belly, a belly that carried their child. She cringed, wondering how he would react, what he would say. Or if he would even believe the child was his.

Gasping, he dropped to his knees before her and pressed his lips to her abdomen. “Our baby,” he whispered with reverence.


	7. Seven Devils

Seventh Challenge: "Seven Devils" by Florence + The Machine

Category: Gen (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Guinevere, Merlin, and the Lamia

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 350

_A/N—A different twist on episode 4x8, when Guinevere faces the Lamia._

* * *

Guinevere stared up at the towering, snake-like creature as it hissed and writhed above her friend Merlin. The venomous entity twisted and undulated grotesquely, poised and ready to strike. A tentacle shot out, wrapping itself around Merlin's leg, dragging him closer and closer to the beast's gaping maw.

Her brother's sword gripped in her fist, Guinevere remained frozen in terror. She was no warrior and had never considered herself particularly brave. Perhaps it was true, what many knights said, that knighthood was for men and women should be relegated to home and hearth, that women had no business wielding weapons. Women were fragile, needy, and required protection.

Well, where in damnation were those knights  _now_?

Nowhere.

Merlin dug his fingers into the dirt floor to stop himself from being dragged into the gnashing jaws of the monster looming above, but it was no use. Letting loose a terrifying hiss, the creature's forked unfurled and wrapped itself around Merlin's neck, tightening the more Merlin fought against it.

That was it, the turning point, a moment when a fury so dark and dangerous swelled up inside Guinevere she could not help but act. She focused that rage at the beast and charged, her blade held high.

"Get away from him!" she shrieked, her voice louder and more powerful than it had ever been.

Guinevere buried the sword into the monster's belly, right up to the hilt. The beast, bellowing cries of agony, released Merlin, and Merlin's hands went to his throat as he fought to catch his breath.

Her sword dripping with blood, Guinevere shouted, "Move back, Merlin!"

The moment Merlin scrambled away, Guinevere, teeth bared, went in for the kill. With violent thrusts and vicious slashes, she hacked the serpentine beast to death. When the creature let out a final, gurgling breath, Guinevere stood atop its ruined body. She reached down and dipped her hand in the blood, then wiped the mucilaginous liquid across her face. Victorious, she bathed in her enemy's blood, just as the knights did.

She was powerful. Unstoppable. No man would ever own Guinevere.


	8. Iris

Eighth Challenge: "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls

Category: Gen (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Ygraine, Arthur Pendragon, Guinevere

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 362

* * *

 

Ygraine stood atop a hill teeming with springtime flowers. Golden sunlight flooded Camelot for the first time all season, and with that warmth came joy, so easily readable on the children's innocent faces playing in the meadow below.

Before someone caught her staring at the little ones, she slid behind a blooming oak tree, one alive with tender green leaves. She knew the rules, and to be caught meant she could never do this again, and that was unthinkable. But rather than waste her time lamenting, she instead focused on Arthur, now age seven, lively and adorable, a huge grin on his face. He and his little friend, Guinevere, pretended to ride their stick horses into battle, and, of course, Arthur led the charge.

A nursemaid remained off to the side, a woman who was  _supposed_  to oversee the children, but she lay in the grass and closed her eyes, soaking up the sunshine, not minding the children at all. Ygraine wanted to chastise the woman, but that was not to be…

"Come, Lady Gwen, we must fight off the bandits!" cried Arthur. "For the love of Camelot!"

"For the love of Camelot!" said Gwen with an endearing lisp. She must have lost both her front teeth since the last time Ygraine had seen her six months ago.

It had been that long, half a year, because the rules stated that was all Ygraine could have, one hour, every six months, here in Camelot, watching her son. And if anyone caught a glimpse of her, even the swish of her cloak, she'd be banned from returning. Because when you were dead, like Ygraine, you were bound by the dictums of the Spirit World. There was no arguing, nor contesting the inherent unfairness of it all. It simply was.

However, instead of concentrating on the pain of what would never be, and the fact her son would never know her, Ygraine peered between the branches of the oak tree and looked on, wondering if her son ever felt her presence, her love. For even from a distance, from a world away, she loved Arthur.

Some things even death could not change.


	9. Stairway to Heaven

Ninth Challenge: “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin

Category: Gen (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Guinevere

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 291

* * *

 

"Mother Goddess, Arianrhod, I beg thee, oh most good and gracious one, to bless me with a child. I will readily and joyfully accept new life in my womb. Take this offering and, in return, let a child come to me. Please… Please hear me…"

Kneeling beneath the shade of the most ancient yew tree in Camelot, from her satchel, Queen Guinevere withdrew a bowl filled with apples, hazelnuts, and a wooden figurine of an infant she had carved herself. She placed it on the exposed roots of the tree just as  _The Book of the Goddesses_ instructed her to do, a book she had stolen from the castle library late at night, a tome that provided detailed descriptions of how to communicate with the deities of the Old Religion. A forbidden religion, but she was desperate.

Married to King Arthur for two years, Guinevere conceived four times and miscarried all four. She had not informed her husband of the last pregnancy; Guinevere wanted to wait until she had missed three moon cycles. The morning before she prepared to share the joyous news, she bled. The baby was gone and her hopes and dreams along with it. In her deep grief and desperation, borne alone, she decided to take matters into her own hands and beg the goddesses for help.

Besides, this Old Religion was not as sinister as so many said. In fact, the prayers and offerings discussed in  _The Book of the Goddesses_  seemed to focus on a reverence for nature and an appreciation of all things related to love and family. What was so threatening about that?

"Nothing," she whispered, sticking a stubby white candle into the center of the bowl and lighting it with a flint and striker, continuing with the offering ceremony. "Nothing at all."


	10. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Tenth Challenge: “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” by Andrew Lloyd Weber

Category: Gen (Canon Era)

Characters/Pairings: Morgana

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 272

* * *

 

All the fine clothes and jewels in Albion could not compensate for the fact Morgana’s beloved father, Gorlois, was dead. She’d rather live in a squalid hovel with him than here in this palace with a cold king as her guardian and the exceptionally arrogant Prince Arthur swaggering about.

“Oh, you and the prince are so close in age,” said _everyone_ , “and you’ll be the best of friends.”

With the pale moonlight spilling into her lavishly appointed bedchamber, Morgana scoffed in her bed. She despised everything about the castle, and that included the people in it. Every aspect of castle life was stiff and formal, from the meals to the lessons.

“Why did you have to die, Da? Why?” she whispered.

The tears she’d held at bay all day long fell. Morgana would not allow these people to see her cry. Tears meant weakness, and she did not want these strangers in her midst to find her frail and needy. Her father had always said, “Keep your chin lifted and your spine straight, my girl, even during the dark times.”

She loved and respected her father above all others, so that was what she would do. Though her fingers itched to reach for the soft doll resting on her writing desk, she resisted. It was time to divest herself of the trappings of childhood. Morgana was ten years of age now, and womanhood loomed. But would it hurt to spend one last night clutching her doll for comfort?

Frowning, she snatched her toy and held it to her chest. Morgana, her eyes swimming with tears, fell asleep dreaming of, and desperate for, her father’s love.


	11. Behind Blue Eyes

Eleventh Challenge: “Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who

Category: Gen (Modern AU)

Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Merlin

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 460

* * *

 

This was Gwen's favorite place to relax during winter, Brew or Bust, the cozy, a quaint coffee shop just down the street from her apartment. Lazy snowflakes drifted past the window as she sat in a corner booth and sipped her spiced chai tea. The beverage's sweet richness filled her senses and warmed her insides. It was Sunday, a leisurely day off from her work as a children's librarian, a job she'd held for more than a year and loved.

Since it was around seven in the morning and a weekend, Gwen and a well-dressed middle-aged couple were the only ones in the shop. She'd always woken early, ever since childhood, relishing the peace mornings brought before the day started in earnest.

The bells on the door jangled, drawing her attention toward the entrance. In stumbled an elderly man, tall and painfully thin, dressed in a tattered coat. He wore a stained woolen cap over his scraggly white locks, and his ragged beard fell to his chest. He scrounged around in his pockets, talking to himself.

"Not enough money," he muttered miserably, staring at the few coins in his hand. "Not enough, not enough…"

The well-dressed couple stiffened when they saw him and, in a huff, left their seats and strode toward the door, wincing as they passed the old man, as if poverty was catching.

Heaving a sigh of defeat, the man jammed the coins back into his pocket. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow."

Sadness clouding the man's bright blue eyes, he began to back out of the shop. Gwen found herself out of her seat and at his side in a heartbeat.

"Hello, sir. I'm here all by myself this morning and could use some company. Would you join me?"

His eyes flashed with recognition for an instant, which was odd, since they had never met. "Oh, I couldn't…"

"Nonsense." Gently, Gwen led him by the elbow to her table. "Now what would you like? Coffee or tea?"

"I can't pay, and I wouldn't want to—"

She held up a five-dollar bill. "I found this in the snow, and I'd like to share my good luck." Not true, but she figured such a white lie might make him accept a little food and drink.

"Well… coffee, please. Black."

Gwen paid for a large coffee and two glazed doughnuts. She brought the tray back to her seat, then slid the coffee and both doughnuts across the table toward the old man.

"No one's ever this kind," he said, his eyes fixed on the food.

"I've been in dark places myself, and I sense you are right now."

He nodded, taking a tentative bite of the doughnut, followed by a small sip of coffee.

"I'm Gwen. What's your name, sir?"

His gaze met hers. "My name is Merlin."


	12. I Will Follow You into the Dark

Twelfth Challenge: "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie

Category: Het (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Isolde/Tristan

Ratings/Warnings: T (death)

Word Count: 336

* * *

Isolde, cradling her newborn, gazed at his face. She stroked his plump cheek and marveled at his tiny fingers. Once again, she brushed her lips against his in the gentlest of kisses.

"Look at him," she whispered to her partner, Tristan, inside of the dilapidated hunting shack buried deep in the Forest of Brechfa. "Isn't he perfect?"

She held up the baby for Tristan to examine by the dim lantern light, but he craned his neck in the opposite direction. "Isolde…"

"Hold him. Please," she begged.

"I can't." Frowning, Tristan sat on the ground beside Isolde and rested his hand on her shoulder. "We've been here for days and we can linger no more. We're wanted smugglers, Isolde, and I value your life. To remain here means certain death. Please come along."

"Can't I have one more day?" Isolde cast Tristan a pleading glance. "Please?"

Anguish clear in his gaze, he shook his head. While Isolde knew Tristan was right and they needed to abandon this place before they were caught, it did not make the leaving any easier.

"Did you..." Gods, this was killing her "…did you do as I asked?"

"Yes. I dug the hole while you were sleeping and collected the cairn rocks. This is horrid, Isolde. My heart bleeds just as much as yours. Please believe me."

That was impossible. Tristan had not carried this baby in his womb for seven months. He'd not been the one to give birth to their infant, a baby who had taken a single shuddering breath and then slipped into the Other World. Tristan understood  _nothing_  while her soul hemorrhaged with the agony of loss. All she wanted to do was ease into death and be reunited with her child again.

Trembling as despondency entombed her, Isolde rose, clinging to her dead newborn. "All right. It's time. But did you love him, Tristan?"

"So much I feel like I can't breathe."

Her heart in tatters and her head hanging low, Isolde followed Tristan outside to bury their child.

Tristan outside to bury their child.


	13. My Skin

Thirteenth Challenge: “My Skin” by Natalie Merchant

Category: Gen (Canon Era, AU)

Characters/Pairings: Morgana, Sir Barri (OC)

Ratings/Warnings: M (violence/sexual assault)

Word Count: 400

 _A/N—This is an AU around episode 3x12, when Morgana becomes queen. Here, she recalls a horrifying event that changed her forever. Please note, this drabble contains sexual assault_.

* * *

 

When one had been wronged as grievously as Morgana Pendragon, keeping the darkness at bay, _not_ succumbing to evil, was impossible. She had been humiliated, denied her rightful claim to the throne, and made to feel as if her magical powers meant she was filth.

But those were not the only reasons rage flowed through her.

Years ago, at age seven and ten, Morgana had drunk too much mead during her birth anniversary celebration and had to be escorted back to her chambers by Sir Barri. He was like an uncle to her, twice her age, and kind. She’d spent many a fine summer afternoon wandering the castle grounds with him, lamenting about issues with Arthur, or snooty members of court. He always seemed interested, always listened.

However, on their way to her chambers that night, Sir Barri seemed… off. He leered at her as if she was a tavern wench, his eyes glassy, and the moment they reached her door, he shoved her inside her bedchamber.

Frigid dread coursed through her in that instant, but she decided bravado might help. “Barri, get out! This is ridiculous and inappropriate.”

The rest happened so fast. He bolted the door and wrapped his hands around her throat, squeezing. “Shut your dirty whore mouth, or I’ll choke you to death. Understood?”

His breath, sour from too much ale, made her eyes water. As his grip tightened, panic set in; he was going to kill her. So she submitted.

To this day, years and years later, Morgana could recall every moment of his assault on her. He bent her over the bed and forced her, pounding into her savagely. Then he shoved her to her knees and stuffed his cock into her mouth; she vomited all over him. Then… Then he pushed her onto the ground, face first. He fell on top of her and jammed his hardness into her backside. Gods, the pain was so blinding she could feel her flesh tearing, the blood coursing down her legs, even now. 

At some point, the attack ended, and he left her—bloody and vomit-soaked—on the floor, defeated and broken. Morgana had never told another soul.

Well, now that she was Queen of Camelot, she held all the power. She would never submit to a man again. She would make them cower in front of her, on their knees, begging for mercy.

But Morgana would show no mercy.


	14. Lucky

Fourteenth Challenge: “Lucky” by Bif Naked

Category: Het (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Isolde/Tristan

Ratings/Warnings: K+

Word Count: 374

_A/N—This drabble is very loosely based on the Tristan/Iseult legend._

* * *

Isolde did not bother to lift the bottom hem of her dress as she slogged through the mud, ankle deep after days and days of punishing rainstorms. She paused for a moment to adjust the satchel strap digging into her shoulder, promising herself she would not glance back at the castle where her husband, King Mark, slept. He would find out she had run off soon enough, and what then? What then…?

As dawn crept closer, Isolde trudged forth. There was no point in taking a final peek at her old home, where she had been a queen, nor thinking about the husband she had abandoned. Mark was a good man, honest, kind, and loving. All he had done for the past half-year was try to make her happy. Anything Isolde wanted, he gave her. When she mentioned she loved roses, he had fifty bushes planted behind her favorite bench in the garden. When she made an offhand comment that she liked figs, he saw to it they were served every evening after supper. Mark was considerate, attentive… But he was not Tristan.

The wind picked up. Although a stinging autumn rain lashed Isolde’s face, she marched toward the river, which ran just beyond the trees, perhaps a hundred paces away. Tristan promised he would be waiting on the shore with a rowboat, and they would flee for Camelot. There, they would live as smugglers, always dodging the long reach of King Mark’s men, who would no doubt chase her to the end of the known lands and try to bring her back. Tristan and Isolde would live under the stars in flimsy tents, their safety forever in question, but it would be worth it, for they would be together. Tristan and Isolde’s loved was rare and pure, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. She would not squander this opportunity to seize happiness.

Isolde ran the final dozen steps toward the river and burst through the trees. As promised, there stood Tristan beside the rowboat, an easy smile on his face, his eyes bright with love and excitement. He opened his arms, and Isolde flung herself into his embrace, her fear and tension evaporating the moment he pulled her close.  

They were lucky.


	15. Come Undone

Fifteenth Challenge: "Come Undone" by Duran Duran

Category: Het (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Valdis/Brion (OC), Merlin, King Arthur,

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 436

_A/N—The character Valdis appeared very briefly in "Merlin," only for a few minutes during 5x3, "The Death Song of Uther Pendragon." She was the elderly woman Arthur saved from being burned as a witch. She presented Arthur with the Horn of Cathbhadh in thanks. I wanted to imagine her thinking back to her youth, because I love my backstories._

* * *

The moon disappeared behind thick clouds as Valdis lay on the ground in the woods just outside her village. As expected, a deep cold coursed through her, making her shiver. Death loomed, but she was an old woman and had long embraced the fact she'd travel to the Other World sooner than later. She was not fearful.

Besides, how could one be frightened when the most powerful sorcerer in the known lands, Emrys, tended to her? A bright, blue-white halo shimmered around the young man's head; he radiated pure goodness, as did his partner, King Arthur. It seemed incredible that during her final hours, two of the most powerful men in the known lands sat by her side. She had already handed over the magical Horn of Cathbhadh to Arthur to thank him for his kindness in rescuing her from being burned as a witch. While she did not fear death,  _that_  was not how she wanted to die.

Emrys adjusted her blanket and spoke soothing words. Comforted, Valdis allowed herself to slip into a dreamlike state, thinking back to her first and only love, Brion. He'd ridden into the village of Alrick at age seven and ten, all swagger and bluster, so handsome with all that sculpted muscle and mop of unruly, blue-black hair.

The girls of the village had flung themselves at him, but not Valdis. Her magical powers had grown difficult to manage, and she was weeks away from fleeing home before someone discovered her secret. But Brion would not let her be. For some unknown reason, he had chosen her above anyone else.

One summer night, as they strolled through the woods, Brion took Valdis by the waist and kissed her. The insistent press of his mouth against hers and the way his strong hands roamed her body with a passionate reverence had undone her. Still, she shoved him away and shouted that she had magic and was leaving this village,  _alone_ , never to return. Valdis waited for him to express horror, perhaps try to tie her up and drag her to the village elder and insist she be killed, but instead, he grinned.

"How terribly fascinating! A sorceress for a wife—remarkable! Let's marry straight away."

That was it. He accepted her magic as if she had told him she was making a roast duck for supper. The very next day, they wed, and their marriage of forty years had been one of deep, abiding love, filled with excitement and travels and children… She still treasured their bond, even though he'd passed five years ago.

Another wave of cold coursed through Valdis, and at the same time, a faint whisper met her ears. "Valdis… Come to me." It was Brion. "I've been waiting for you."

She reached out her arms; he sounded so close. "Yes. Take my hand. Please."

A warm, familiar hand slipped into hers. And with a gentle tug, the love of her life guided her on.


	16. Don't Give Up

Sixteenth Challenge: "Don't Give Up" by Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush

Category: Gen (Canon)

Characters/Pairings: Guinevere, Leon

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 339

_A/N—Guinevere prepares to become Queen after Arthur's death._

* * *

It all seemed so surreal, as if Guinevere watched the scene from outside her body. She sat on the throne in the Great Hall as her knights and subjects filtered in, their heads bowed, defeat and anguish etched on their faces.

Digging her fingernails into her palms, she stared at the exit doors. If she fled from the Hall right now, that might cause enough confusion to allow her to dash out of the castle, barrel into the woods, and hide. She'd toss herself into an old hunting pit and conceal herself with leaves. She might have to remain there for a day or so, but eventually, the knights would give up looking for her and she could escape Camelot. Because becoming Queen, sole sovereign of this kingdom, was ludicrous. Her husband was  _dead_.  _He_  was the true ruler, a planner and leader, not she. Every bit of her being screamed:  _Abdicate, Guinevere! You are not up to the task!_

Still dazed, Guinevere glanced back at the people shuffling in. Bile burned the back of her throat as her gaze skimmed over them. She would fail them, as surely as the sun would set tonight.

A gentle hand fell on Guinevere's shoulder, and she started. With tenderness in his eyes, Sir Leon looked down at her. How long had he been standing at her side?

"My lady, no words can capture how honored the knights and I are to have you as our queen. We have such faith in you." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, then stepped back.

Those words of reassurance soothed and bolstered her all at once; her subjects, her friends believed in her. This was not the time to surrender to doubt. Her people  _needed_  her. A small spark of hope ignited in her heart, and then that heat spread until it finally burned away the overwhelming mass grief and dread that had filled her insides. It was time to start anew.

Taking a hard swallow, she sat up tall and prepared to become Queen.


	17. Colorblind

Seventeenth Challenge: "Colorblind" by Counting Crows

Category: Het (Canon Era, AU)

Characters/Pairings: Princess Mithian/Sir Leon

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 332

_A/N—This drabble takes places after episode 5x4, "Another's Sorrow," where Morgana forces Mithian into leading Arthur and his knights into a trap. Ashamed, Mithian wants to flee Camelot._

* * *

Humiliation scorching her insides, all Mithian wanted to do was slip from Camelot's castle under the cloak of darkness and return to Nemeth without a word of farewell to anyone. She had betrayed King Arthur—though she had been under duress and controlled by Morgana's magic—and wanted nothing more than to crawl back home, climb into bed, and lick her wounds. Mithian had always prided herself on her strength and stalwart nature, and to think she had been manipulated into almost causing King Arthur's death tore her apart. Although Arthur had forgiven Mithian and told her that even the hardiest of men had fallen prey to Morgana's black magic, Mithian could not forgive herself. Shame gnawed at her conscience with its razor-like teeth.

Full of self-loathing, Mithian waited until sundown to make her escape. Holding her breath, she slunk out of her temporary bedchamber in the castle, with her back pressed against the wall and her face concealed by her hood. She recalled the castle layout well enough from her previous visits, and even with her vision slightly obscured, Mithian knew she drew close to a secret exit with which she was familiar.

Just as she prepared to toe open the door, a hand fell on her shoulder, and she whirled around.

"Easy." Sir Leon, dressed casually in breeches, a tunic, and a woolen riding cloak, caught her by the elbows to steady her.

"Please, don't tell anyone," said Mithian, gazing up at him as tears burned her eyes. "I must go. You wouldn't understand."

"I do understand. More than you can imagine." He offered his arm. "Allow me to accompany you."

Riddled with doubts and plagued by uncertainty, Mithian stared at the proffered arm. If she took it, what might happen next? More heartbreak? Or, for once, did her future hold unexpected, wonderful possibilities, if she was only brave enough to take a chance?

Without delay, she seized Sir Leon's arm.


	18. Rolling in the Deep

Eighteenth Challenge: "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele

Category: Het (Canon Era)

Characters/Pairings: Nimueh, Uther/Ygraine

Ratings/Warnings: T

Word Count: 302

* * *

Nimueh had never experienced a pain so profound, one that cut so deeply she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Was it possible for a soul to bleed?

 _Why_  had Nimueh agreed to attend Uther and Ygraine's nuptials? She had imagined herself in Ygraine's place so many times, all but gliding down the aisle in a haze of love, finally reaching her desired destination, a place beside Uther as his wife.

She and Uther had been lovers for months before Ygraine turned up, and what started out as a nonchalant dalliance had turned into so much more. Nimueh had fallen deeply in love and had been about to divulge her feelings when Uther summoned her for supper in his chambers.

"Nimueh, I have enjoyed our time together, but I fear our relationship must end," he said, while casually gnawing on a chicken wing. "I met my future wife today, Ygraine, and she is a remarkable woman. I don't want to hurt her by carrying on with you. I'm sure you understand."

Not wanting to appear like a clingy, lovelorn fool, she feigned indifference and choked down her meal. She left the chamber directly afterward as the food she had consumed threatened to come right back up.

Regardless, here she stood weeks later at her beloved's enormous wedding in Camelot's Great Hall, heartsick, devastated, and torn up with jealousy. She wanted to flee, but somehow, Nimueh remained riveted in place, transfixed by the vows and that lingering kiss between Uther and Ygraine. Uther had never looked upon Nimueh with such adoration, and that was when she realized she had been a fool to offer her body to a man who saw her as nothing more than a bedchamber plaything, and she felt so…worthless.


	19. Time After Time

Nineteenth Challenge: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper

Category: Het (Canon Era)

Characters/Pairings: Hunith, Matthew, Merlin

Ratings/Warnings: K

Word Count: 478

* * *

Being an unwed mother often came with shame, but here, in the small village of Ealdor, Hunith had received nothing but support. She'd raised Merlin without a partner for the past three years, and she never felt alone, for her friends and neighbors intervened whenever she needed help.

When she had been sleep deprived during Merlin's early colicky days, they were there, swaddling Merlin, crooning comforting lullabies, and allowing Hunith to indulge in restorative (and desperately needed) naps.

When Hunith suffered from an awful cough when Merlin was one, they were there, feeding her soothing tinctures and tending to her son.

And last year, after a lightning strike set her home ablaze, and Hunith and Merlin had barely escaped with their lives, the villagers united around them, offering shelter, and they built a new home faster than she ever thought possible.

She was blessed to live in Ealdor.

Yet at the forefront of these acts of kindness stood Matthew, her best friend since babyhood. He'd been the first one she turned to when she realized she was pregnant, and he had set the tone regarding how she was to be treated. When Hunith confessed during a village meeting that she was with child, Matthew immediately went to his feet, and said, "How wonderful our friend Hunith will bring new life into Ealdor! Isn't it exciting?"

People nodded their heads and offered congratulations, but Hunith often wondered if she would have received such encouragement and help from everyone if Matthew had not been so bold in offering immediate acceptance.

Thus, when Matthew burst into her home late in the afternoon as Hunith and Merlin mixed bread dough, she did nothing but smile. Matthew was twenty, but his boyish enthusiasm still delighted her.

"She said yes!" Matthew pumped his fist in the air. "Arial said she'd marry me!"

"Matthew! That's wonderful," said Hunith, but before she had the chance to elaborate, Matthew lifted Hunith off her feet and spun her around. Sticky dough particles flew all over, but Merlin laughed and clapped in the background.

"Uncle Maffew's getting married," sang Merlin, his blue eyes bright with glee.

Matthew set Hunith down and grabbed her hands, which remained covered with flour. "Hunith, I want you to understand, no matter what, even once I'm married, you will always be my best friend. I treasure what we have and I would never leave you behind. Tell me you know that."

Tears of joy spilled down Hunith's cheeks. "I know, Matthew. We're best friends for life, just as we promised when we were five."

They embraced, and nothing but pure exhilaration flowed through Hunith. Matthew deserved good fortune, and not even his marriage would sever their bond. She was blessed to have such a wonderful friend in her life, and they would continue to be there for one another, time after time.


	20. I Shall Not Walk Alone

Twentieth Challenge: "I Shall Not Walk Alone" by Ben Harper

Category: Het (Canon Era, AU)

Characters/Pairings: Freya/Merlin, Guinevere

Ratings/Warnings: K+

Word Count: 354

_A/N — This drabble takes places between series two and three._

* * *

Standing inside a tent close to the lake, Freya smoothed her hands over the most exquisite wedding gown she'd ever laid eyes on, a diaphanous, silver garment, but what was more incredible was that she was  _wearing_  it. She had not dared to dream of love, not with her being cursed, but her days of transforming into a Bastet and unwillingly slaying the innocent were nothing but a memory now. Thanks to her betrothed's powerful magic coupled with the Druids', Freya had been released from the shackles of her curse and was free to live and love.

Guinevere burst into the tent, grinning, bearing a bouquet of wildflowers so massive that Freya could not help but laugh.

"Gwen, it must have taken you ages to pick all those," said Freya, accepting the offering. "You needn't have gone to so much trouble."

"Trouble?" Gwen's brows lifted. "My two favorite people in the kingdom are marrying! This is no trouble at all."

Gwen had already done so much to help Freya prepare for the wedding, from creating the stunning dress to handling the details of the (intimate) post-wedding feast, which would take place right beside the lake, a place of meaning for both Freya and Merlin, a location to which they'd both been drawn for inexplicable reasons. They'd picnicked here, shared kisses, and it would be where they made love tonight for the first time as husband and wife.

Gwen pulled back the tent flap, exposing Freya to the rays of the golden morning sunshine. Freya peeked outside and spotted Merlin standing by the water, relaxed and chatting with Arthur. Merlin must have sensed she was looking his way, for his gaze met hers, and their eyes locked. Seemingly rendered speechless by her appearance, Merlin's mouth dropped open, and he tapped his fingers against his chest, right over his heart. That was their secret symbol, one that meant, "I love you more than words can express."

She returned the gesture as a wave of love swelled up inside her. From this day forth, Freya and Merlin would be bonded by both love and marriage, and they would navigate the adventuresome road of life together with nothing hindering their joy.

* * *

_A/N—And this concludes the "Lyrics and Melodies" collection. It has been a little stressful, sharing my writing once again, yet I truly appreciate the kind comments and support. I shall post more drabbles and stories soon._


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